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The Masters
by [?]


Oh, who is the Lord of the land of life,
When hotly goes the fray?
When, fierce we smile in the midst of strife
Then whom shall we obey?

Oh, Love is the Lord of the land of life
Who holds a monarch’s sway;
He wends with wish of maid and wife,
And him you must obey.

Then who is the Lord of the land of life,
At setting of the sun?
Whose word shall sway when Peace is rife
And all the fray is done?

Then Death is the Lord of the land of life,
When your hot race is run.
Meet then his scythe and, pruning-knife
When the fray is lost or won.